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by Mice



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-02-23
Packaged: 2017-12-03 09:31:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/696822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mice/pseuds/Mice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a really long week.</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

> For the Mystrade Valentine exchange, written for dirtycorzaharkness. She requested fluff. I am pleased to deliver. Happy valentine's my dear.

It had been a long week, and an even longer night as Mycroft waited for his flight to land. He was feeling every moment of it, stressed from the unfinished work he'd been pursuing, and worried because he hadn't heard from Greg in the last two days. He knew that his partner was deeply enmeshed in a case, but it was unusual for them to go more than a day without so much as a brief call or an email. He missed the sound of Greg's voice.

Had there been some kind of mishap, he would have been informed, of course. He wasn't concerned that Greg had been injured. No, it was simply that things had obviously become so complicated and had been moving so fast that Greg hadn't had any time or privacy for contacting him. Mycroft wasn't certain if the case would be resolved by the time he got home. He wasn't looking forward to arriving to an empty flat at half midnight, but such was their life together.

The government flight meant he would not have to clear customs when he landed, nor wait for his luggage. Such things were an annoyance at the best of times; tonight they would have been unbearable. Mycroft closed the file in his lap as he felt the landing gear extend, and leaned his head back against his seat; his eyes flickered shut for a few moments. They burned from his having been awake for the better part of the last twenty four hours. Mycroft rubbed at them with the heel of one hand. It didn't really help.

The landing was smooth, but Mycroft ached with exhaustion despite the ease of their arrival. His PA followed him off the plane and they parted company at the airport with a quiet, "Good night." They both had drivers awaiting them. It was the least he could do for her, as neither of them wanted to delay getting home any longer than absolutely necessary.

Mycroft opened the door to a dark, silent flat, dropping his bag next to the door of the coat closet as he turned on the light. He shrugged out of his overcoat and hung it, putting his umbrella in its proper place. He hadn't got more than halfway to the bedroom before he heard the flat's door open behind him.

"Mycroft?" Greg stood in the doorway for a moment, looking about as weary and done in as Mycroft would have expected. "It's Friday already?"

"Saturday," Mycroft answered, as Greg closed the door. "It's nearly gone one."

"Oh. Sorry. Lost track of it all a while back. Spent about five hours getting half a dozen new people up to speed on the case so that the rest of us could get home and get a little rest." He hung his own coat as Mycroft went to him.

They leaned against one another, chins on shoulders, arms around waists, half asleep on their feet. "You're freezing. Rough week?" Greg asked.

Mycroft just nodded. "The blizzard in Geneva was ghastly. My flight was delayed by several hours."

"You're home now."

Mycroft nodded again. "My joy knows no bounds."

Greg sighed. "God, I need a shower. I must reek. I don't think I've had a change of clothes in close to three days, if it's Saturday now."

Mycroft leaned back and took him by the hand. "An excellent idea. And then sleep. Before we both fall over."

"Brilliant."

They shed clothes along the way. Mycroft was too tired to care about wrinkles or leaving things on the floor. It could be dealt with later. The hot water was heavenly and they stood in clouds of steam between the multiple shower heads just getting warm again and propping one another up. After a little while, they actually washed; Mycroft took the time to shave in the shower because he felt horribly uncivilized going to bed with stubble. He had to admit that he didn't mind Greg's, though. He enjoyed the feel of it on his skin, and he knew Greg was far too tired to bother tonight.

Greg collapsed on the mattress first, and Mycroft lay down after him with slightly more grace. He sprawled over Greg's chest and rested his head on Greg's shoulder, listening to his lover's slow, solid pulse. Greg wrapped an arm around him, his other hand caressing Mycroft's hair, and Mycroft closed his eyes with a quiet, exhausted sigh. "I'm glad you're here," Mycroft murmured. "I've missed you terribly."

Greg nodded. "Yeah. Me, too." He pressed a kiss to Mycroft's forehead then rested his cheek there, holding him close. "Always miss you when you have to travel. I'm glad it's not often."

Mycroft relaxed as they lay there, feeling Greg's chest move as he breathed. "Don't go in today." He wanted time together, time just to be with him, curl up with him, have tea in the morning, not have to rush away.

Greg's head shook, a minute movement against Mycroft's forehead. "I won't. I'm off until Monday. Got shoved out the door with orders to get some rest."

"Good." Mycroft's fingers curled around Greg's shoulder and he reveled in the gentle movement of Greg's hand through his hair. "I expect us to sleep in, then."

"Sounds good to me." Greg's voice was rough with exhaustion but quiet. "Got you all to myself for a couple of days. Been a while."

"Far too long," Mycroft mumbled, already half asleep. Being tangled up with Greg like this was comfortable. Warm. Safe. Right now, as he let the day go, it was the closest thing he could imagine to bliss.

~fin~

**Author's Note:**

> Artwork by Katzensprotte appears by her kind permission, as it inspired this bit of floofiness.


End file.
